| St. John's, Newfoundland | PAGE [3] |
| Plan of a Manitoban Township | [53] |
| The Ranche Pupil | [66] |
| Howe Pass | [70] |
| Kananaskis Falls | [73] |
| Cascade Mountain, Banff | [74] and [75] |
| Bird's-eye View of Banff | [77] |
| Bow Valley | [79] |
| Banff Springs Hotel, Canadian National Park | [80] |
| The Pool, Hot Springs, Banff | [81] |
| Mount Stephen, the King of the Canadian Rockies | [85] |
| Train emerging from Snow-shed | [90] |
| Great Glacier, Canadian Rockies | [92] |
| The Loops | [94] |
| Frazer Cañon | [97] and [98] |
| "A Little Mother" | [129] |
| The Red Lacquer Bridge, Nikko | [139] |
| Pagoda of the Temple at Nikko | [142] |
| Mausoleum of Yeyásu | [144] |
| An Imperial Garden, Tokio | [152] |
| A Typhoon | [159] |
| Street of Enoshima, Japan | [163] |
| My Carriage at Kioto | [189] |
| A Chinese Street | [229] |
| Our Home on the Peiho | [235] |
| How I went to Peking | [241] |
| A Gate of Peking | [250] |
| A Street in Peking | [261] |
| Her Ladyship's Foot | [270] |
| All that is seen of the Forbidden City | [278] |
| Homage to "The Son of Heaven" | [280] |
| The Great Wall | [295] |
| Harbour of Hong-Kong | [305] |
| Botanical Garden, Saigon | [314] |
NEWFOUNDLAND TO
COCHIN CHINA.
CHAPTER I.
OUR PREMIER COLONY.
Land in sight when I awake at 5 a.m., a grey streak across the oval of the port. With what intense satisfaction we gaze on the line of barren rock, which has a suspicion of green horizon on the summit of the grey cliffs, only those can picture who have been at sea for some time.
Presently we glide past Cape Race, with its neat signal station on the cliffs, and know that in a few minutes the arrival of our ship, the Nova Scotian, will be signalled at St. John's. We see a few fish-curing sheds on the tiny bays of yellow sand, and some white specks that represent cottages. They are dreary little settlements, and near them the fishing-boats pass us, returning home after their rough night's work, for this is the inhospitable coast of Newfoundland, the Premier Colony of England.
As the morning wears on and the sun rises, it is a pretty scene. The great blue restless ocean, with its mighty Atlantic swell, lashing itself in spray and foam, with a long white line breaking and disappearing, re-appearing and dying against the bleak rock-bound coast. Sometimes the cliffs are formed of strata of grey lava or limestone, at others they are of rich red sandstone, colours that are intensified with the peculiar clearness of the atmosphere. Above all, there is a pure blue sky, with white clouds chasing each other and casting shadows along the coast. Now and again we pass large fishing luggers sailing swiftly by in the brisk breeze. Some have tawny orange or deep brown sails, others pure white ones, looking like wings spread in the sunlight, gliding swiftly and silently past. It is a rich bit of colouring to eyes tired and sad with the monotony of an impenetrable, all-surrounding line of sky and ocean.
The approach to St. John's is romantic. The barrier of cliffs still rises to larboard, without an apparent break or indentation, whilst they say that we shall be anchored at the wharf in ten minutes. Another scanning of the coast reveals at length two rocks rising higher than the others, with a slight fall between them. The ship ploughs along broadside, and until exactly opposite this opening. With a few final plungings, and last rollings and tossings, she is brought sharply round, and we face the harbour of St. John's. The great brown rocks, sparsely sprinkled with green, rise up forbidding our entrance, and inside these is another amphitheatre of granite against which the town of St. John's is built. The line of wharves forms a black foundation. The haven where we would be lies peaceful and blue in the midst. The first sight of St. John's and the last, always include the twin red towers of the Roman Catholic Cathedral standing out on a platform above the town.